Half-Blooded Prince
by ZeroSbr
Summary: In order to defeat and capture the Dark Elf queen, Olga Discordia, Celestine Lucross summons a hero from another world to spearhead the final campaign. Unfortunately, the summoning ritual causes the one summoned to forget who he is and where he comes from. All he remembers is his name, as well as a few of his various...attributes. Just testing the waters for now.
1. Prologue

Eostia was known as a fertile land. Rolling hills and tranquil forests, along with constant fair weather were but a few of the favorable attributes it possessed. It would have made good farming land under normal circumstances, but this bucolic land was never subject to normal circumstances. Eostia was a land of turmoil and brutality, due to the conflicts primarily between Humans and Demons. The two factions had been fighting for dominance for centuries, the monsters and fiends raiding and pillaging Human lands, while Humans fought back with the aid of the Dwarves and High Elves.

The orcs, imps, goblins, and other Demons absolutely enjoyed wreaking havoc on Human lands. Ransacking their villages, enslaving their children, and raping their women once they finished executing the local men was a horrible yet common tale in Eostia. Eventually the local Human kingdoms drove the demons back to their lands in the far north, and it seemed as though the conflicts against the Demons would soon be over and peace was on the horizon. The Humans of Eostia rejoiced, hoping and believing that their long struggle was drawing to a close.

However, this hope revealed itself to be a foolish one, as a mysterious, foreboding fortress suddenly appeared in the far north in a single night, a symbol of doom drawing nigh for humanity across the land. The "Black Fort", as it would be named, seemed to drain the very life from the land, turning the entire northern half of Eostia into a stygian wasteland. The land turned bleak and barren, the water became foul, and the sky became dark and cloudy, with a permeating shade of blood-red making it impossible to tell day from night. The energy drained by the Black Fort would be used by its ruler to strengthen and subjugate the Demons, as well as empower the ruler of the fortress herself: the Queen of the Dark Elves, Olga Discordia.

The Dark Elf queen used the power of her fortress and her renewed armies of Demons, called the "Legion" under her rule, to turn the tide back into their favor. Queen Discordia then proceeded to spend the next hundred years attempting to eradicate Humans from Eostia, along with every other race that would oppose her. She would have been successful had the High Elf queen, Celestine Lucross, not intervened. Queen Lucross, said to be the reincarnation of the Goddess of Eostia, led the Humans and other allied races against Queen Discordia and her Demon army. Over the next hundred years, the two Elven queens would fight to a stalemate, even when they fought in person.

Between skirmishes and campaigns, Queen Lucross erected seven city-fortresses to keep the enemies in the northern lands at bay. She occupied one of them, then appointed six individuals to rule the other fortified cities: Captain of the Dawn Templars and Queen Lucross's right hand, Claudia Levantine, Ruler of the Dwarves, Luu Luu, Kaguya the Shrine Maiden, Maia the Queen of Mercenaries, and Princesses Alicia Arcturus and Prim Fiorire. These noble ladies were all given the title of Princess Knight, and collectively known as the Princess Knights of the Seven Shield Alliance.

In addition to the Princess Knights, mercenaries were hired to assist in the struggle. Eventually, they were so heavily relied upon that the Seven Shield Alliance armies were more mercenary than knight or kingdom soldier. The vast majority of mercenaries belonged to one group: the "Kuroinu" or "Black Dogs", who were renowned for their effectiveness. Led by a ruthless, cunning man named Vult, they were able to valiantly push the Legion back enough to be able to strike at the Black Fort itself. After so many years of turmoil, it once again looked like peace was in sight. They had only to capture the Dark Elf queen's ominous fortress in order to end the hundred years' war. Victory was in sight.


	2. Chapter 1 - A Lost Soul

**A/N: From what I know, there isn't too much Kuroinu lore. The seven fortresses are named, then there's the names of the Princess Knights as well as Olga Discordia and Chloe, a few members of Kuroinu including Vult and Kin, and of course their various personality traits. Their abilities aren't really detailed, because why would anyone care when the point is to watch hot girls get railed and broken. On one hand, this means I have a lot of creative flexibility. On the other hand, it also means that I can easily ruin the "feel" of the source material. With that said, I'm going to be doing the "Lost Soul" origin from Wimblegurk Brigade's Kuroinu Rebellion Challenge. My approach might bend the rules of the challenge a bit, but…eh.**

A large, fortified village on the edge of the northern Alliance territory was bustling with activity, despite the fact that it was nighttime. It was a large source of commerce, as well as a popular spot for travelers to rest, which meant people could be seen conducting their affairs at all hours. However, tonight was a bit different. There was no trading going on, nor were the local inns packed with travelers. The crowds of people there were present for somewhat bloodier reasons.

People were arriving and departing through the aged oaken gates, though most were arriving. The ones arriving carried all manner of weapons: spears, axes, the occasional shoddy sword, bows with full quivers, and crossbows with stuffed bolt pouches. The ones leaving were largely merchants, and a few were travelers. They were hastily fleeing with terrified expressions on their faces, as though they were being chased by Demons. In truth, they weren't entirely wrong.

In the village, several campfires and tents dotted the hastily made campsite where men were getting ready for battle, some hardened veterans and others fresh-faced new recruits. The new recruits around the campfires were rough-looking and mostly younger, in their 20s, some even looked to be teenagers. They all joined for the same reasons: money and perhaps fame if they were so lucky. Green though they were, they were dressed for battle, at least as well as they were able.

There wasn't a single man, veteran or otherwise, that wore a full suit of metal armor, most only having sabatons and greaves, with very few sporting pauldrons. Plain gambesons were worn if any upper-body protection was worn at all. No one had any manner of shield aside from a buckler. However sparsely armed they were, all the men around the campfires had one thing on their apparel: a red patch somewhere on their clothing with an emblem of a snarling black dog with a sword pointing down diagonally and to the left. The emblem that belonged to the Kuroinu, or Black Dog, mercenary group.

There was, however, one person who was not dressed nearly the same as any of the other men in the village, not having the Kuroinu emblem anywhere visible on his person. He kept his distance, staying away from the campfires, not caring for the crass behavior of his comrades or how they smelled after their long trek to the outpost. His comrades didn't know what to make of his strange appearance nor his aloof behavior, so they ignored him as best they could. If they were honest, they found him rather unsettling. They had never seen anyone as peculiar as him.

His equipment and attire were vastly different and more generous than the other men's, in both quantity and quality. He donned his close-faced helmet, which resembled a frightening dragon's head, albeit not quite as large as one. It appeared to be made of both metal and real dragonhide.

At his left side, mostly hidden beneath a dark cloak, hung a hand-and-a-half sword whose blade was concealed by its black scabbard, which featured a terminated throat, a single thin yet sturdy dark leather belt, and an elegant steel chape. Moderately intricate patterns were embossed on the sword belt and the edges of the scabbard near where the edges of the blade were lying underneath. The sword's softly glowing, silvery cross-guard had a basic, straight bar design with slightly flared quillons, and beyond that was a fine black leather grip with a tapered segment near the argent, bevelled, round pommel.

At his right side, fastened to his sword belt, was a green left-handed glove-shaped weapon, with what seemed like a monster head with ruby-red eyes near the business end of it. It was clearly some kind of cestus, meant to augment the effectiveness of a punch. The last of his weaponry was a series of several throwing knives attached to the back of his sword belt, completely hidden from view.

As for his attire beneath his cloak, he wore a black jacket with metal studs and four square brooches arranged vertically down the center, with a thick tan belt that encircled the jacket. Around his neck was a large white cravat. Over the jacket, he wore a long decorative overcoat with a very high collar, which was midnight black with golden trim. Black gloves with decorative cuffs complemented the overcoat, clearly meant to be worn together.

The cloak itself was just as black as the jacket and overcoat on the outside, but if a person were to catch a glimpse of the interior, they would see the cape changing colors from black to blood-red, to black again, pulsing slowly. The last two articles of clothing he wore were black pants and knee-high black boots with elevated heels. Standing with a straight back, he had an imposing aura.

He contented himself with gazing across the campsite, until a devious-looking recruit approached him in a brave attempt to make conversation, dared by his friends who were watching in tense anticipation from a nearby campfire.

"It's the calm before the storm, eh? Who knows what'll happen. Gets you excited, doesn't it?"

No response. Not even a blink. The black-clad figure knew he likely had ill intent.

"Don't enjoy fighting then? Hey, me 'neither. I'd rather be at home with my folks, but I've got to make a living somehow, right?"

Still no response. The bold recruit tried a different tactic.

"...Care for some food mister? I don't mind sharing."

The mysterious man finally acquiesced, meeting his gaze through the eye slits of his helmet, and smiled gently.

"I thank you for the offer, but my hunger is already sated," a smooth baritone voice replied, somewhat muffled by the speaker's helmet.

The shifty recruit looked surprised, and then pleased at getting a response. He decided to make the most of the chance he had.

"You're that guy who was summoned by Queen Celestine herself, right? What's your name, and where are you from? You seem more like a crown prince than a mercenary."

The princely-looking man in black briefly bent his helmet-clad head downward, as if in contemplation, and then back up again prior to responding.

"I know not where I am from, nor do I even know for sure who I am. I'm an…amnesiac. My name is the only thing I know about my person. You may call me Alucard."

The lad grinned, and Alucard knew that now was when he would make his ill intent clear.

"Alucard, huh? Never heard that one before. What kinda name is that? Do princes just have weird names where you're from?" he asked in a mocking tone, "and what's this about being an amnesiac? Does Vult know he's taking on damaged goods?"

Alucard turned away, deciding not to take the bait.

"Well, don't think you're special just because you're some grand hero from another world. Right now you're a fresh recruit, on top of being damaged goods. You're no better than any of us, even if you do have Celestine's favor. Take care not to die out there, your majesty! Hahaha!"

Alucard simply deadpanned, inwardly rolling his eyes and shaking his head. _Why do I even bother giving people the benefit of the doubt, _he mused offhandedly.

The cheeky recruit ran back to the campfire where his friends were, giggled as he whispered to them excitedly about the exchange he had, particularly the last remark he made, which then earned him roaring laughter and pats on the back for his audacity.

Mere moments later, a stocky, towering figure with tanned skin, dark armor and apparel, and a single scar over his left eyebrow walked over to the largest campfire, more of a bonfire, and gave a gruff yell to get everyone's attention. Everyone stopped what they were doing, and gathered around the bonfire, or at least as close to it as possible given the large number of people, and listened.

The man who yelled looked to be in his late thirties, and had an air of confidence and savagery that caused the gathered men to both admire and dread him. Like most everyone else, he wore mostly clothing, with a few pieces of metal armor such as the gauntlet and pauldron on his left arm. However, one instantly knew his rank just from a glance.

Alucard may have had an imposing presence, but this man had a presence that terrified most men, even when he was smiling. There was no mistaking the ruthless leader of the Kuroinu mercenary group, Vult. On his back was an outrageously large two-handed sword, one that would normally be impossible for a man to wield two-handed, yet Vult could heft it one-handed with ease.

"Alright ladies, shut up and listen; your lives might depend on it! Our scouts have informed me that the Dark Queen's army of Demons will be here in about an hour. They're targeting this village, thinking that it'll be an easy win and a huge blow to the Alliance. Little do they know, we're here to defend it!" The men yelled applause and gave enthusiastic battle cries.

"Before you get too excited, you should know that they outnumber us about four to one, and we do have a lot of green recruits." The men booed. "Still, I think we've got a good shot at winning between our vets and the fresh meat. You guys can DO THIS!" The company cheered as Vult held up his fist, some of the men working themselves into a frenzy of bloodlust. "Are you ready to WIN, YOU UGLY DOGS?!" The response was a deafening roar from the horde of men.

"Alright then, enough squawking! Finish getting ready, and get in formation outside the village! Archers and casters in the back, and the rest of you front and center! Let's go, you sad sons of bitches!" Vult shouted. After he got done with his speech, he discreetly gave Alucard a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye.

The veterans laughed while some of the new recruits seemed to take slight offense at that last remark. Nevertheless, they chuckled as they dispersed, eager for what was to come.

Throughout the entire pep rally, Alucard was the only one who said and did nothing, aside from stand near his tent. He had watched it all unfold seemingly impassively, though it was difficult to tell with his helmet on. Vult noticed Alucard's apparent lack of enthusiasm, and began to wonder about him.

. . .

Not much time passed between the pep rally and when the Black Dogs got in formation, ready for the enemy to show themselves. Alucard, whether by coincidence or by Vult wanting to vigorously test him in battle, was placed near the front.

As he looked around himself, he realized just how odd this scene was. Here he was on foot, dressed like nobility or even royalty, while everyone else looked more like bandits or marauders with their axes and spears, as well as their simple cloth armor. No one in the formation, himself included, had the appearance of a skilled mercenary fighter. He didn't look like a mercenary In the first place, and even the veterans in the Black Dog group looked ill-equipped.

_At least Vult looks the part of a competent fighter, _thought Alucard, _but I suppose that's to be expected of the leader of a mercenary group._

They waited for thirty minutes, just standing there thinking that at any moment Demons would appear on the horizon. They waited, and waited…until the mercenaries began to get impatient. They began murmuring among themselves, and finally a scout ran up to Vult, needing several seconds to recuperate enough to relay his info. He looked rather worse for wear.

"What's the matter, scout?" Vult asked, "Did those pansies say they weren't gonna show up?" Vult smirked as those within earshot chuckled, aside from the scout in question.

"Sir, I," he coughed up some bile before he could continue.

"Well, what is it?" Vult growled, growing impatient.

"T-the Demons, boss! They're not attacking from the north! They're attacking…" he had a wheezing fit.

"What?! Where are they attacking from scout? Tell me where!" Vult yelled, lifting the scout by the collar in his rage so that they looked each other in the eye.

"They're attacking from both the east and the west! They intend to distract us with some troops attacking from the west while their main force launches a surprise attack from the east! It's a pincer movement! Two other scouts told me before dying right in front of me from their wounds!" he babbled, fearing for his life.

Vult sighed and let the pitiable scout down. As the scout gratefully scurried away, Vult closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, developing a strategic response as fast as he was able.

"Alucard!" he called once he opened his eyes.

"Yes, Commander Vult?" came the solemn reply.

"It's about time you showed me why Celestine summoned you, 'hero'. Take Hicks here, and all of the new recruits, and engage the distraction on the western front. I'll take the others and launch a surprise attack of my own on the main force. Whoever gets done first will help the other out. Got it?"

"As you wish, Commander," Alucard answered without hesitation or complaint. He immediately began traveling west, seeming to gracefully glide upon the terrain at a jogging speed.

"WHAT?!" exclaimed the recruits. They hadn't bargained on being sent off on their own so soon, and especially not under the leadership of someone who was a fresh recruit themselves.

"You heard me, you sniveling bastards! Get going after him! You want your money? Fight and come back alive. You want a shot at glory? Here's your first golden opportunity. Embrace it. Savor it. Who knows, you might even come back alive," he gave a throaty laugh.

As the recruits uttered a reluctant agreement and began heading towards the west with Alucard, Vult gave Hicks a meaningful look that no one else saw, let alone caught the meaning of, except for the person it was meant for. Hicks gave a nod of understanding, and started walking with the rest of the group towards the enemies to the west.

. . .

The recruit unit headed west until they spotted the Demons. There were a lot of them, especially for what was supposed to be just a distraction force. Orcs and imps, neither of which Alucard had ever seen before, though he could not be sure if it were because of his amnesia from the summoning or not.

_So these are what the denizens of this world call "Demons", _Alucard thought to himself, _the word is familiar, but their features..._

The orcs had dark-brown skin, and were larger and taller than any human. They were muscular despite having potbellies, with short tusks jutting up out of their lower jaw and two large spines on their heads. Their ears were pointed, although they were too broad to be mistaken for elven ears. For weapons they had large, heavy axes, clubs that resembled sections of tree trunk, as well as the occasional bow and arrow. Their attire consisted of loincloths and other scraps of cloth tied about their bodies. Red eyes completed their intimidating, if oafish, appearance.

In contrast, the imps were a sinister shade of red, and much more compact than humans, let alone the orcs they were adjacent to. Their eyes glowed a harsh, unsettling yellow, and stubby horns protruded above them on the crown of their heads. Their weapon of choice were crude yet wicked daggers. While the orcs at least had some sense of modesty with their clothing, the imps wore nothing at all.

Alucard stood on the small hill where he first sighted them, already contemplating a strategy. The recruits behind him were looking at the Demons and murmuring among themselves, slowly losing confidence. Hicks finally caught up and approached Alucard.

"Hey boss man, what's the plan?"

Alucard pondered a bit longer before replying, "They seem to lack many archers and other means with which to launch projectiles. We will have our archers pick off as many of them as they can before they reach us. After that, we engage in melee."

"Sounds good. Why don't we have our archers use their bodkin point arrows? More likely to get through those orcs' tough skin," suggested Hicks.

"Is that what those large beasts are called? Orcs?" Alucard asked.

"Yeah, they're a real pain too. They might be stupid, but they're a pain to kill. Their tough skin makes cutting them almost impossible, so stabbing is the go-to tactic," Hicks sighed, remembering past confrontations. "Oh, and the small red ones are imps. They're not so tough, just tricky.

"I see. In that case," said Alucard, "we should first take out the archers, and save the imps for later. It would also be wise to coat the sharp edges of the arrowheads with poison. That way, we might slay one of those orcs with a few arrows rather than many. Do we happen to have poison on hand?"

Hicks looked at Alucard with a newfound sense of admiration and approval. His face lit up with a Cheshire Cat grin as he whistled and responded, "Poison arrows? I didn't think you were that kinda guy…I like how you think. Yeah, as a matter of fact we do! Looks like Vult didn't send us on a suicide mission after all. I'll tell the guys what to do."

As Hicks informed the recruits of the plan, they began to regain confidence, as well as gain respect for their temporary leader's tactical mind. The archers quickly prepped their arrows, got into formation, and on Hicks's command fired their first volley as the Demons were still a ways off. Their main targets were the relatively few orc bowmen, which were struck in vital areas, such as their chests and throats, while a few were hit in the eye, which killed them instantly. A few of the orc archers survived however, long enough to launch a meager volley of their own.

As the arrows approached, the men either braced themselves or ran in an attempt to dodge the assault. Most succeeded, but some weren't so lucky.

"Aaagh!"

Hicks cursed as he was hit in his right shoulder, rendering his sword arm useless. After a few moments of dealing with the pain, and uttering a slew of curses, he looked over at his stoic commander to see how he was faring.

Alucard was faring quite well, having wrapped his dark cloak around himself in order to deflect the few projectiles that were scattered on the dirt around him. Hicks's eyes widened in fascination and disbelief at the feat. His next words would've been said by anyone else in this situation.

"That's some cloak. What the hell is it made of?"

"I don't remember," replied Alucard. "I…instinctively knew it was strong enough to fend off those arrows. It felt like a strong enough material. But enough small talk, we need our archers to return fire. Are you still able to fight?"

"Yeah, I can still use my left arm. It'll be a bit harder, but I can put up a fight when they get here. Archers!" yelled Hicks. "Another volley! Finish off the orc archers! Fire at-will!"

Hearing the order, the Black Dog archers wasted no time in launching their poisoned arrows. The arrows fatally struck the rest of the orc archers, quickly snuffing out their lives.

At this point, the melee Demon combatants were too close to risk another volley. They were beginning to pick up speed for a charge.

"Hicks, order the men to charge," Alucard commanded.

Hicks was confused. "Why don't you order them yourself? Isn't this supposed to be your glorious moment? Vult put you in charge here, not me."

"True," the black-clad man admitted, "however, I have an aversion to raising my voice, as silly as it sounds. Please oblige me and relieve me of this 'glorious moment'," he said with a hint of humor in his tone.

Hicks shrugged. "Sure thing your majesty," he said sarcastically, "I guess I oughta be grateful, since I almost never get the honor of leading a charge with Vult around. Alright men, the moment you've been waiting for," he paused for a moment as the men prepared themselves, "CHARGE!"

And so Alucard and the other recruits charged. As Alucard charged, his coak billowing, he reached towards his right side with his left hand for his peculiar cestus and put it on. Then, he punched the air in front of him, in the direction of an orc.

Immediately after he fully extended his arm, a brilliant blue fireball launched out the end of the cestus and homed into the orc's face, causing the orc to produce a shrill scream that would not have been expected to come from such a monster. The blue fireball spread its flame fast, despite the lack of oil or other flammable substances on the orc, causing the demon to rake its fingers all over its body and roll on the ground in a vain attempt to douse the flame. Soon, it ceased to struggle and lay there burning.

The orcs next to the charred orc seemed intimidated at first, but they charged at Alucard nonetheless, perhaps seeking to avenge their fallen comrade or seeking to prove their superiority over him. The cloaked man charged towards them, using his cestus to punch one directly in the face with enough force to not only floor the orc but create a small crater where its head landed. The orc was killed instantly, its head in a grisly state.

Alucard then evaded another orc's club swing before throwing one of his hidden knives at its face, lodging itself in its eye. As it howled in pain, he punched again with his left arm, shattering one of its knee caps. The orc fell, and Alucard seized the chance to forcibly punch its head into the ground, finishing it off.

"Ungh!"

Looking behind him, Alucard saw an imp yank its daggers out of a recruit's head and torso. As the corpse fell, its face was revealed to be the cheeky young recruit that had heckled him earlier.

"That was easy! I thought humans were supposed to be stronger than us imps!"

The imp proceeded to cackle gleefully, obviously proud of what it had just done.

_I suppose this is what they call karma…even so, I will avenge you so that your spirit may rest in peace, _Alucard afforded a brief, silent prayer.

"Hey, maybe you'll put up a better fight! I hope you don't mind your fancy clothes getting shredded!" the imp taunted.

"You'll be dead before you can try."

At this, the imp became indignant, rushing Alucard out of rage. Alucard hastily threw a knife at it, but the imp deflected it with its dagger. Taking another knife in his right hand, he back-slapped the little imp with his cestus, launching it to the side, and then slit its throat as it tried to recover. He then took the time to retrieve the knives that he threw, punching imps out of the way as he did so.

By now, the metallic smell of blood permeated the battlefield. Alucard didn't know why, but for some reason he liked the smell. A lot. It made him…hungry?

_No, that can't be right,_ he reasoned, _Why would smelling blood make me hungry? Did I use to consume it? Why am I like this? Just what am I?_

His head began to hurt as hazy images and sounds swam through his mind. He willed himself into shaking them off, instead choosing to focus on his surroundings.

As he looked around, he saw that most of the orcs and imps were either dead or being dealt with by his few surviving comrades. He also saw the carcasses of countless former Black Dog recruits strewn about the battlefield. As the fight dragged on, it became just Hicks and himself fighting against the few dozen orcs that were left. They fought back-to-back, entrusting each other with their lives.

Hicks fought bravely with his non-dominant arm, but it was obvious to Alucard that he was struggling, missing opportunities for strikes due to being unable to fight at full strength. They needed to finish this battle, otherwise Hicks would likely be the next to go down. Realizing this, Alucard began to push himself; he started moving and fighting so fast he left afterimages. The remaining orcs began to fall very quickly.

Eventually, only three remained. There was good reason they had survived as long as they did; they were the tallest, strongest, and toughest orcs of the pack. Wielding massive axes, their skin had a different hue than the others. They were gray, looking as though they were hewn from stone. One of them was even taller than the other two, which Alucard reasoned was likely an Orc Chieftain as well as the leader of the Demon army that assailed him and his men. The other two seemed like his elite guard.

Hicks was tired and winded from using his non-dominant arm the entire fight, as well as from the desperate fight with an orc he just finished. The two orc guards saw this, and took advantage of it. One of them charged at Hicks while the other hung back to back him up, and the charging orc punched him in the gut before he could react. The wind was knocked out of him and he went flying several meters, causing him to cough up blood from the internal damage.

The orc that had just punched Hicks closed the distance before he could recover. Hicks closed his eyes and flinched as the elite orc raised his heavy axe for the finishing blow. He then heard the orc grunt in pain after he heard the sound of a blunt impact. When Hicks realized that death had not come to him, he opened his eyes to the sight of Alucard standing over the orc which was now lying on its back, its skull crushed.

"I thought you might need help," Alucard coolly said as he turned to him. It sounded like he was smiling beneath his dragon-faced helmet.

"Thanks," was all Hicks could manage, being out of breath and injured as he was.

"You're welcome," said Alucard, "I took the liberty of finishing the other one too-"

"Watch out!" yelled Hicks, but too late.

While Alucard had finished the other orc guard, he hadn't finished the Orc Chieftain. He was punished with an axe blow to the head for letting his guard down. The piercing sound of the impact rang for a few seconds, axe staying in contact with Alucard's helmeted head, and then he crumpled to the dirt beneath him.

The Orc Chief gave a hearty triumphant laugh now that he downed the bothersome human who killed so many of his men, and even his two best fighters singlehandedly. It was only right that he, the Chieftain, be the one to put an end to him.

Hicks clutched his abdomen with his left hand as he tried to hobble away, nursing broken ribs and trying to prevent himself from gagging up more blood. Unfortunately, the large, savage orc had other plans for him.

Hicks felt a large hand wrap around him, lifting him up and slowly crushing his torso with its iron grip. The Orc Chief held him in front of him, preparing to bite his head off. Hicks stabbed its hand, and nothing happened. The orc laughed as though mocking him, bringing him closer to its maw. As he drew nearer to its face, he managed to stab one of its eyes, causing it to roar in pain, clutching its eye with its free hand. Unfortunately, Hicks had already bought all the time he could.

Just when his head entered the Chieftain's mouth, Hicks was almost deafened by a shrill scream blasted directly into his ears from within the orc. He was launched out of its mouth and onto a corpse that broke his fall. Looking up, he witnessed the hulking Demon clawing its back with its hands, being engulfed by the same dazzling blue flame that he saw come from Alucard's odd-looking fist weapon at the beginning of the skirmish.

As it happened, the user of said weapon himself stepped out and around the immolating Demon, rubbing the back of his head as though he had simply fallen down a flight of stairs.

"My head…hurts…" groaned Alucard, his helmet having a deep, highly conspicuous scratch on top between the two miniature dragon horns. He quickly came to his senses as his gloved hand nursed his armored head.

The Orc Chieftain wasn't done yet. Ignoring the pain of burning, he swung his axe at Alucard again, hoping to finish him off. However, Alucard was ready this time. With his trusty emerald cestus, he punched towards the towering Demon, stopping shy of its face due to the difference in height. Instead of a fireball coming out, this time a flurry of punches emerged from the fist weapon, rapidly punching the orc's face with uncanny speed and force.

Once the cestus was finished punching, the Chieftain of the orcs finally fell, its face unrecognizable. The intense blue flame swallowed it entirely as it lay on the ground.

"It seems as though we've won," observed Alucard, regaining his cool, aloof demeanor.

Hicks burst out laughing, although it pained him. Eventually he stopped and spoke.

"So we did. Gotta hand it to you, you're one hell of a fighter Alucard! I'd be dead right now without you. Wouldn't want to fight you in a dark alley, or anywhere else for that matter. Heck, you might even be a match for Vult!"

"What now? Should we wait here for Vult? He did tell us to help if we finished early," Alucard reminded him.

"They're probably done by now too. Unless you fancy carrying me, we should probably rest here until Vult picks us up," reasoned Hicks.

. . .

Vult and his men arrived not long after the duo had finished and began resting. At first, all they saw were dead bodies: orcs, imps, and humans. It was a bleak landscape even on a normal day, but with the carnage before them it was downright forbidding.

"Damn, looks like we were too late. I should've given the guy more vets than just Hicks," Vult sighed in annoyance.

"Looks like the recruits were all talk," quipped Kin.

Vult slowly nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, looks like. We're going to collect the weapons; you go ahead and burn the bodies with your magic. Burying them would take a while, and Celestine wants us to get a move on and report to her before we storm the Black Fort itself and capture it."

Kin's face lit up with a mischievous grin, "And after that, we get to-"

"Thank goodness you're here," said a nearby voice.

Those at the front of the company, including Kin and Vult, looked over towards the voice's origin. A few meters away, Alucard was standing near the last three orcs he had fought, as still as a statue.

"You're…not dead?" Kin asked in disbelief, as though he were verifying the existence of a ghost.

"Indeed," was Alucard's curt reply, "but more importantly, Hicks needs healing."

Upon hearing this, Kin was even more shocked, but also relieved that one of his closest comrades was still alive. He gave a nod of acknowledgement to Alucard, and ran past him to where Hicks was, and began healing him.

Vult walked up to Alucard, surveying the area of the most recent fight.

"Didn't see any of those over where we fought," Vult pointed at the gray orcs, "were those the Chieftain and his…guards maybe?"

"It seemed that way. They were much harder to eliminate than any of the other orcs."

"I see. Are you and Hicks the only survivors?"

"Yes, Commander. The other recruits stood no chance. There were too many Demons for them."

"Hm. Then I guess you've proven yourself, as well as earned my thanks. The fact that you look untouched aside from that scratch on your helmet means you either hardly fought or you fought hard and well, and of course I'm grateful Hicks is alive. Why don't we ask the man himself though? I don't want to give unearned praise."

"Vult, sir, I owe my life to that guy. He's one hell of a fighter," said a strained voice. Vult and Alucard both turned and saw Kin propping up Hicks and walking him over.

Vult grinned broadly, "That settles it, then. Good job hero, you've proven yourself worthy of that title. Welcome to the Black Dogs, Alucard! Good to know Celestine didn't just give us some useless amnesiac prince instead of a hero. I'll admit, I had some reservations about hiring you on when I was told you had amnesia, but it seems like it was worth it."

"Thank you, Commander Vult. I'll do my best," Alucard solemnly said as they shook hands.

Vult laughed, "No need to be so formal! Just call me Vult. It's the least I can do for the man who fought bravely when the odds were against him and even saved one of my lieutenants."

**A/N: Well, here's the "real" first chapter finally. If you're wondering, this Alucard is a slightly altered Castlevania Alucard. Castlevania is one of my favorite franchises period, so I wanted to use him in my first fanfic ever. His sword is supposed to be the Alucard Sword from SotN, but design-wise it's going to be based on a real hand-and-a-half sword called 'The Crecy' rather than the estoc he has in the Netflix show. Also, his fist weapon is indeed the Fist of Tulkas, also from SotN (and inspired by Tolkien's LotR). The Alucard Sword and the Fist of Tulkas are two of my favorite weapons from SotN, so of course I had to use them.**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I hope I improve as I continue.**


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